


King of the Alley

by lmc291



Series: Laughing with Sinners [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Claire Is So Done With This Shit, Gen, Human Disaster Clint Barton, darcy is a good friend, dumpster bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmc291/pseuds/lmc291
Summary: Darcy pushes the covers back and hauls herself out of bed. He’s really doing this. He’s really making her put her bra back on. “I swear to God, Clint, your rib better be broken.”





	King of the Alley

**Hawkass** 10:57  
_i’m in a dumpster_

 

Darcy stares at the message flashing on her lock screen. What the absolute... She taps in her password and then swipes a response.

**Me** 10:58  
_where tf is kate??_

**Hawkass**  10:58  
_california_

**Hawkass**  10:58  
_pls get me out_

 

She bangs her head against the wall behind her twice. “Oh my fucking God.” She swipes back at him.

 

**Me** 10:59  
_ffs barton_

**Me** 10:59  
_a dumpster??? fucking really?_

**Hawkass**  10:59  
_awww mean_

  
**Hawkass**  10:59  
_darce don’t be mean_

**Hawkass**  10:59  
_i’d do it myself but I think I busted a rib_

 

Darcy pushes the covers back and hauls herself out of bed. He’s really doing this. He’s really making her put her bra back on. “I swear to God, Clint, your rib better be broken.” One thing’s for sure: she’s not changing back into regular clothes. Nope. She’s going out in her pajamas because it’s eleven o’clock and she should be in bed. He owed her. He owed her so much.

 

**Me** 11:00  
_jesus. yes i’ll get you. where?_

 

  
**Hawkass**  11:00  
_Hells Kitchen. At least I still think so_

 

**Hawkass**  11:00  
_don’t tell nat 4 the love of god_

 

**Me**  11:01  
_dude you can’t not expect her to find out_

  
**Me**  11:01  
_she’s gonna find out_

  
**Me**  11:01  
_She’s gonna find out and tear u a new_  
_asshole for going out alone. Again._

 

In fact, Darcy might be the one to tell her. It might even get Clint to stop going after the Tracksuit Russians by himself. (Who’s she kidding? He’ll do whatever he wants to do, but at least she’ll get the pleasure of watching Nat kick his ass over it.)

 

**Me**  11:02  
_Also where in Hells Kitchen? That’s a bit of_  
_a search grid for one person to deal with_

**Me**  11:02  
_even if it is my turf_

 

**Hawkass**  11:04  
_There’s a laundromat on the corner_

  
**Hawkass** 11:04  
_And maybe a liquor store?_

**Me**  11:05  
_I think I know where that is_

  
**Me**  11:05  
_eta 10 min_

 

“Jesus Christ, Clint.” She double checks the temperature on her phone and pulls on a hoodie. Grabbing the bag with the built-in taser holster, she’s out the door and quietly jogging down the stairs of her third floor walkup. (She momentarily regrets going without a bra but she had already been in bed, goddamn it.)

By now she knows enough of her neighborhood that “intersection with laundromat and liquor store” actually does narrow it down a bit, but her first two guesses are misses. So much for having any luck that he would be close to her apartment.

She walks down 10th towards 46th and hopes that the third time's the charm. It’s late, and she’s never been too keen on being out after the shows end and the late dinner crowd start to pack up and go home. It’s not that she feels unsafe, necessarily, but that doesn’t stop her from keeping her hand near her taser at all times. There’s no such thing as being too careful with HYDRA out in the open again.

She spots an alley that looks promising and crosses the street once she has the light. There aren’t any people around, but that doesn’t mean that Darcy is just going to start shouting Clint’s name for anyone with their window open to hear. Darcy flexes her fingers before slipping them into her bag to wrap around the handle of the taser and enters the alley, whistling the first tune to enter her head.

“The 1812 Overture? Really?”

Darcy peeks into the third dumpster. “Oh good, it’s you.” She wrinkles her nose at the garbage juice Clint is covered in. “You owe me forever. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. _Fuck_ ,” he grunts as she helps him out over the side of the bin. “You’re going to have to incinerate your clothes and bleach the smell out of your nose and I have to do every favor you ask me.”

“Yep.”

“Motherfucker.” Clint nearly buckles in pain. “They might have actually broken my rib.”

Darcy slings Clint’s arm over her shoulders as he curses tracksuit descendants to the twenty-third generation and pulls out her phone to text JARVIS to send one of the autonomous cars for a pickup before sliding the phone back into her pocket. “Come on, hang in there a little bit. Doc Helen knows we’re coming-- we’re just waiting on the car.”

“Oh. You again.”

The new voice causes Darcy to snap her head around to the woman standing behind them with a trash bag in her hand. “Hey it’s cool. She’s good,” Clint murmurs in her ear as her hand drifted to her bag where her taser is hiding.

“This is the second time you’ve landed in my dumpster, you know.”

If Clint’s rib wasn’t busted, Darcy would have poked him in the side. “Second time?” she hisses at him.

“What?” he whines.

“I’m telling on you,” she mutters through the side of her mouth. “I’m telling on you so hard.” She pitches her voice so the other woman can hear it. “Did you fish him out then, too?”

The doctor (she’s still in her scrubs) rolls her eyes so hard Darcy feels it in her _soul_. “He had a friend with him last time. It’s like there’s a fucking sign on my roof or something.” Darcy thinks maybe she wasn’t supposed to hear that last bit.

It doesn’t stop her from commenting. “Have you thought about moving?”

“Every goddamn day.” Doctor-lady starts griping in Spanish under her breath about devils and superheroes and not signing up for this shit. Darcy smothers a snort because she figures she’s not supposed to understand the color commentary.

A car pulls up to the mouth of the alley.

Clint sighs. “You know, access to Stark’s cars is all fine and dandy, but would it kill him to have at least just one Camry or something?”

Darcy raises her eyebrows at the rather conspicuous Audi. “He might take that under advisement after he smells the dumpster juice you’re going to get all over the nice leather.”

“Need any triage before you get where you’re going?” Doctor asks.

Clint shakes his head. “It’s just the rib. I can keep it still long enough to see our medics about it.”

“But thanks, Doc.” Darcy nods at her.

The woman hesitates a split second before correcting, “It’s Claire.” She shrugs. “Don’t spread it around that I’m some home for wayward superheroes or whatever because I sure as shit can’t handle that, but I guess if Hawkeye needs help again, you might as well know my name.”

“Darcy. And thanks-- for the other time with this guy.”

Claire nods at her and turns to go back inside her building.

“Come on,” Darcy urges Clint over to the car and eases him in before sliding into the driver’s seat herself. God, Tony really did need better cars for dumpster accident pickup. This two-seater sure wasn’t cutting it, even if watching the steering wheel move on its own was pretty cool.

She’s quiet for a few blocks before the passing street lights light up the shit-eating grin on her face. “So how long were you and Daredevil stuck in the dumpster before she got you out?”

Clint groans, knowing that she’ll never let it go.

“No, no, seriously. Sounds like you’re both regulars there. Did you have to duke it out to be King of the Alley?”

She laughs as he bangs his head against the headrest.

**Author's Note:**

> Darcy is assuming Claire is a doctor because why the hell not. Claire lets her believe that because then people are looking for a doctor named Claire and not a trauma nurse named Claire.


End file.
